Gray, Part 1
Drunk on the smell
Of rain-soaked
Pavement,
Black blades
Cut my view,
Hide the flaws
On the altar.
Hand out the window
To catch wind and water,
It stings with speed.
Half of my clothes
Are wet,
But why close it out?
I’m in no hurry
To stop,
Unless it were
Maybe
To get taken up by it,
Run out into it –
Relishing
A chance to soak
My summer skin
With something
Other than sweat.
